


The ones we lost

by frenchlostwanderer



Category: MMFR, Mad Max Fury road
Genre: F/F, F/M, I was asked to post this, Modern AU, Multi, somebody save my soul, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchlostwanderer/pseuds/frenchlostwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(It's my first work posted here, and a shameless trainwreck. If you read it, I'll be super happy anyway. Porn incoming in the next chapters, don't ask me why. I'm not a native english-speaker, so I hope this will be good. Contains an oc you may hate or not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't mess with me

Lionne Keone gave a pat to the van that had carried most of her posessions to Sun Street, in front of a small shop on the frontage of which you could read « The Green Place ». Her motorbike, a bit rusty and old, but still in good shape, was already parked in front of it, and the van's driver turned to the tall woman, giving her a smile.  
« _ Need help with your bixes, darlin' ?  
_ Just help me put them in the shop, I'll do the rest myself. »  
Since a few months, everything she did or said felt automatic, as if she had turned into some robot. At first, every night, she wished to wake up only to find out that the last events were nothing but a sick dream, and that everything would go back to normal. It had never happened.  
And so, Lionne had ended in front of that shop, in an unknown street, and unknown city. Just a small town.  
Shout's last words rang back to her ears as she left most boxes on the shop's floor. « I couldn't go back. Too many memories. But it's your inheritance ; You need to take it and perpetue it. Please. »  
Except that Shout was in the woods now. « Ashes to ashes », just like she wanted. Shout the fierce had abandonned her lion cub into this world, with nothing more but her biological mother's shop. At least, the place was entirely hers, but this town..  
« It's just fear of the unknown, get a hold of yourself, Keone. » She mentally ordered. The help was gone, once his van emptied, before she could even thank him. Another failure to add to her arm-long list.  
The flat that was her new home was right above the shop, in a one floor building of red bricks, really near from the neighbour's. The girl's only hope was that they wouldn't be too noisy. Looking at the street, calm but covered in concrete, she could already feel how bad she would miss the countryside and it's deep forests, the endless fields and grey skies.  
She spent the whole day unpacking. The flat was still filled with a some furniture, the most basics : a couch, a bed, a row of drawers and a coffee table. Even some vaguely old tv ; At least, her « relocation » had been carefully planned, thanks to the robotic state she had fallen into : electricity and water were fine, the Internet connexion would be installed in a few days.. After a quick check, the tv worked, but it wasn't the girl's top priority. The kitchen, downstairs, was right next to the shop. Working fridge, oven, microwave. Things weren't new, but useful.  
Once the few books and clothes she owned tidied, she scribbled a small sign put in the shop's window :  
« Opening soon. »  
The Green Place was a flower shop before her mother's departure, according to Shout.  
« Guess it's my duty to keep it going. »  
Lionne wasn't bad with plants, she simply felt.. Uneasy. Just like with most things. Kids made her uneasy. Sick people too.  
Hospitals.  
« No. You don't wanna think about this. » Lionne tried to breathe calmly, standing on the sidewalk, leaning her back against the shop's wall.  
Shout in her hospital bed and the smell that awful sweet smell it always smells like death in hospitals right ?  
Her voice is raspy it sounds like she has sand stuck in her throat and there's nothing you can do.  
« Stop. »  
And you just stand here and watch her die slowly and listen to her asking you to carry on.  
« But I'm here. I'm carrying on. »  
She was feeling nauseous, but at least the memories had been pushed back, thrown in a dark corner of her brain, shut away.  
At that instant, her attention was drawn to the noise of roaring engines passing the street. A row of cars, seemingly more patched-up than a war survivor, going to an insane speed while a few silhouettes were hanging from the windows, screaming victoriously.  
« Don't tell me there are gangs here. Oh gods, Shout, were you for real when you sent me to live in this place ? »  
Lionne wasn't easily frightened. Gangs were nothing to worry about, as long as you kept a low profile, but these guys seemed completely batshit. From the first car, almost at the end of the street, a gunshot was heard, making her jump. Just at that moment, the last car in the row stopped right in front of the shop.  
The driver seemed to stare at the girl for a minute. Of course ; People always stared a bit at her, first. Not only was Lionne exceptionnaly tall for her age, but her hair, dyed in indigo, proudly dreaded, and ornated with wooden pearls, creating a magnificent contrast with her freckled, golden-brown skin, always drew attention. Her grey stare, underlined with khol, pinned the guy's as she tried to look laid-back, leaning against the wall, on leather boot resting on the bricks. At the same time, she could not detach her eyes of his face. Not that it was especially handsome, though something quite nice to look at, but his mouth was scarred in an extension of wicked smile, a few piercings plastered on the scars themselves in the most strange way. From the first second, Lionne already wanted to take that smug and proud grin off his face, but she simply stated :  
« _ You guys are awfully loud. » She didn't mention the gunshot, as if it didn't even happen.  
The driver looked at that tall girl, about his height, standing in the golden rays of the end of day, and scratched the short hair on his scalp. It was kept shaved this lenght, barely a centimeter, matching his brother's.  
« _ Boo fucking hoo, whatcha gonna do ? Call the cops ?  
_ Listen Splitface -the nickname came instinctively to Lionne's mind-  
He didn't let her finish and strided until he was only a few inches from her face. Would have she been smaller, he'd been hunched, but he was simply trying to make himself taller, more menacing.  
As if that would have worked with her. Still, a low growl escaped his mangled mouth.  
« _ Trust me, girl, you'd better save yourself some trouble and not mess with the War Boys.  
_ This is the lamest name I've ever heard. Lionne didn't even try to sound agressive, but her face remained a scowl.  
_ Not as lame as tha' rusty bike. Is that yours ?  
The man had taken a few steps away from her and made a move to kick her motorbike down.  
At that instant, Lionne's face became the one of a raging feral. And she started screaming.  
It was an uninterrupted flow of injuries, threats, and everything she could think about, howled at the top of her lungs with a voice so high-pitched it hurt anyone's eardrums. Irish legends speak of banshees, whose scream announce your death once you heard it. Lionne turned into a banshee, moving swiftly in front of her bike, her long nails ready to tear the guy's face if he stepped an inch closer to her vehicle. Through the flood of words that fell from her lips, Lionne felt that her accusations weren't against him anymore, but against herself. « Worthless, good for nothing, helpless, pathetic. » It was the first outburst of rage she was feeling since.. Since Shout. The first emotion, the first true reaction someone had teared out of her. Finally, the flow of words stopped, leaving her to mumble, throat burning and painful, eyes widened.  
Be that girl any bulkier, Slit wouldn't have hesitated to hit her. He was ready to, but suddenly, she had stopped howling at him like a cornered animal. The War Boy wasn't used to being injured with such gnarl, which left him staring, ears ringing, eyes widened in surprise, especially when she stopped. The fuck was going through this girl's mind ? One second ago, she seemed on the verge of killing him, and now her lips were shaking.  
« _ Alright, I ain't spendin' one more second with you weirdo. »  
The gang boy nearly jumped back in his car, an absolute mess with scratched black paint, and drove away.  
She was hot, but scary.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Now with porn.)

The night had fallen since a few hours, and it was impossible for Lionne to sleep. Same as every night, she should have been used to it by now. Getting half an hour of sound sleep was the best she could have, since a few months. The thick layer of khol hid the circles around her eyes, of a dark purple. The restless slumber in which she dived only brought nightmares and left her panting when she brutally awoke, terrified. Her reason for being up as it was the middle of the night and she was waiting for an important arrival of flowers for tomorrow.   
Once more, the lanky girl walked up to her new bedroom's window to glance down at the street. Not a soul. She didn't know the nearby bars, if there were any, so nowhere to go.   
To her surprise, the sound of a car was heard in the street. Instead of passing in front of the shop and fading away, it stopped, right next to her building. From the window, she saw the gang boy from earlier. What was he doing here ?   
Lionne walked down the stairs, ready to punch that ruin of a face and get him out of this street forever, but when she found herself in front of him, the guy simply raised his hands, in a sign of peace, as if he was in front of some feral animal and not a girl half his width.  
« _ Watcha doing here ? Lionne's voice was harsh, on her guards as always.  
_ Listen, we try not to have any quarrels with people who live on our territory. Shouldn't have tried to kick your bike. Know how these can be important.  
Slit would have killed anyone who laid a finger on his precious car too. Promoted himself after the death of it's former driver, but this was not a thing he said, nor wanted to remember.   
Lionne didn't question the « territory » idea. She recalled the way she had been screaming at him, taking away the culpability and pain of the last months. Almost used him as an emotionnal punching ball, without meaning to.  
_ I've been kind of an asshole too. Guess I should make this up, somehow.   
The boy gave her a smug grin as he walked up to her. Then, without warning, he gripped her waist and pulled her closer.   
_ An' I have an exact idea on the how. Waddya say ?  
The girl didn't speak, but instead kissed him, deep and harsh, teeth claiming his lips as she pressed her lithe body against his. Mouth still hungrily biting at each other's, they entered the shop, Lionne slamming the door shut behind her.   
The place was mostly empty, aside from a deserted counter. There wasn't any elegance in their movements, all biting and scratching, hands tugging at their clothes. The leather jacket was discarded, left on the floor, as well as Lionne's tank top. Slit could feel the rush of desire in his veins at the pleasant sight of her tiny breast, exposed under the cloth, he wanted more of that soft skin, to bite in it, while her hands slipped under his shirt, nails reaking. The War Boy was covered in scars, and disliked the attention many of his partners paid to them, but in the dim light piercing by the shop window, the girl didn't seem to notice them, too busy feeling him up, one hand palming the bulge in his pants. Oh, he was already half-hard, his tongue slipped between her lips and entwining with hers, muffling his own growls.   
« _ My name's Slit. Can't wait to hear you scream it. » He groaned, breath ragged, after breaking the kiss.   
Lionne grinned. That boy surely put some expectations. She yanked her boots off, and the guy licked his lips mischievously, unbuckling her pants and pulling her with him on the floor. She slowly got rid of them, and her underwear as well, making a real show out of it, grey eyes pinning his, but Slit wasn't the patient kind. Pushing her to the ground, he hauled one of the girl's legs on his shoulder and buried his face between her thighs with an appreciative hum, gripping her hips. His tongue lapped at her, feeling the girl's labia getting slicker and hotter.  
« _Oh.. Don't stop yes don't stop.. » She mumbled, one hand pulling on his skull, forcing him closer. Slit kept on suckling, savouring her taste on his lips, until he decided she was wet enough and he wanted his fun.   
He could hear the girl groan whe he stopped and pulled her to rest on his lap, straddling her narrow hips, sharing the sweet taste in his mouth with another deep kiss, biting relentlessly at her lips. Slit then guided her hand to feel the bulge in his pants, and she hastened to unbuckle them, his erection plain at sight. The tip of her fingers brushed along his lenght, already dripping precum, and he growled in need at the light touch.   
As payback, the gang boy slowly pushed a finger in her wet, soft sex, not trying to give her any relief but setting a slow, languid pace. He could hear her, holding back her moans, and, to him, this was exasperating to no point.   
« _ Oh, c'mon, lemme hear that voice of yours.. »   
What was even her name ? He was pretty sure not to know it. Who cared anyway ? Just a nice fuck, nothing more.   
But she was louder, now, making sure to get all his attention, her head thrown back, and for a second he admired her physique, lithe body and golden skin, small breast rising with her chest. But his own need started to feel uncomfortable, and he couldn't wait to thrust into that softness. His free hand fumbled through a pocket on his pants and pulled out a condom.   
« _Well, she purred, would have been a shame to interrupt this right, Slit ? »  
Her voice was low and oh, did he want to make her loud, moaning like anyone else did, begging even, and this started by pulling away his fingers and rolling the rubber down his lenght. Grabbing her narrow hips, he lifted her above his cock. She didn't wait for him to lower her body, and with an exhale, did it herself. The gang boy was about to push her on her back again, but she overtook him by firmly lowering his torso on the floor, asserting her position and immediately gaining a pace that made moans and groans escape her parted lips. The way he felt her contracting around his dick was wonderful, how tight, hot and wet she was, and how her nails dug in the flesh of his shoulder, all of that drew low growls out of his chest. One of the girl's hands was already toying with her dark nipple, a triumphant grin plastered on her face as she kept on thrusting up and down. Slit quite appreciated the sight, but oh, that grin, he wanted to make it disappear. In a swift movement, he upturned her, being on top, and pinned her wrists above her head.   
« _ How does it feel, girl ? Tell me how you like it.. Tell me you want me to continue.. »  
His own pace was harsh, hips snapping against hers, and he punctuned his sentence by bitting deeply her neck, adding a new mark to the deep purple ones already formed.   
« _ Ohh carry on boy, you almost there, gods, so good, feels so good.. »   
With each of his thrusts, Lionne was closer, cries now uncontrolled, and when a calloused thumb snaked down to tease her clit, her back arched as she climaxed ; A few thrusts after, the gang boy muffled his own orgasm, face buried in her neck, grabbing a fistful of her blue dreads. Both ended panting on the wooden floor as Slit got rid of the used condom.   
« _ Say, huh, girl. What's your name ?  
_ M'Lionne.   
_ The fuck is that name ?  
_ Says the dude called « Slit ».   
She sat up, longs legs messily stretched, giving a distant glance at her discarded clothes, and started to put them back on.  
« _ Don't expect to stay here for the night.  
_ Psh, as if I wanted to. Plus -Slit looked by the window- It's almost dawn.  
_ Bloody hells. (She was almost completely dressed back and the boy had followed her, yanking his pants back up) Hey, I'm starving. »  
For the first time in months, she actually felt hungry. Not just a mechanical need to provide some energy to her scrawny body.   
« _ Sounds legit. I'm quite exhausting, right ? Slit gave her an awfully satisfied grin.  
_ You have no idea. Anyway, wanna grab something to eat ?  
_ Sounds like a plan.»  
It didn't take much for them to rush out, Lionne closing the shop behind them, and jump into Slit's car.   
On their way to the only all night open fast-food, the blue-haired girl made many comments on the state of his vehicle.   
« _You call that a car ? I call it a trash wagon.  
_ That beauty is a nitro-boosted shiny jewel, and if you say one more thing about her, I'll set fire to that rusty bike of yours. » The tone wasn't agressive, though, mostly playful.   
« _ You realize it'd need a good new layer of paint right ?  
_ You realize I don't give a damn, right ?  
_ Alright, I'm not the one living in this car anyway. »  
To this, Slit didn't reply. Yeah, this vehicle was his only home. He usually slept in parking's lots, sometimes at a brother's or in some one night stand's place. His relatives were a long forgotten memory. The gang was the only family you needed.   
The waiter's face at the drive was one of some poor exhausted student trying to pay his loans, being disturbed of his somnolence by the two passengers and mumbled something that sounded like a courtesy formula. He scratched his red curls in attempt at staying awake, and Lionne's lips brushed against Slit's ear as she moved.  
« _ Hey, I have an idea. »  
Of course, the said idea implied to get the unlucky worker a little more awake, or at least to piss him off. Pissing people off was one of Lionne's favorite hobbies, seeing them loose control when she kept it perfectly. As Slit turned his back to her, ready to order some junk food, one of her hands snaked under his shirt, feeling up the toned torso, while the other wandered on his pants, awfully close the the belt buckle, all of that while dragging her teeth on the boy's earlobe, wrenching a groan out of him. Her lithe body pressed harder against his back as the blue-haired girl chuckled, and Slit managed to keep a countenance while ordering two menus.  
« _You know, I'm not that hungry.  
_ Well I am and this is only for me. Retorted the boy.  
_you're a dick.  
_ I know. He added with a large smile, stretching his scars.   
Without stopping her fingers from the fun time she was having on Slit's torso, Lionne simply asked :  
_A cheeseburger and a large coke. Thanks.  
_You're only eating that ? Weren't you hungry ?  
_ Well it seems like hungry can take different meaning from who says it.  
They left the eyerolling waiter while the girl blew him a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

Later.  
« Hey, I know the perfect spot when it's sunrise. »  
Slit's assertion had led them on the top of the highest part of the town, the kind of place where people came to flirt or date, not eat junk food in a mess of a car, and yet, they were here, watching the view. Splendid, though, the way the sun set fire to the whole town, in a blinding blaze, tainting the sky with reds and oranges of all kinds, making it bleed.   
Lionne was downing the cafeinated drink at impressive speed, for someone who barely ate, and when the driver questionned her, she simply replied :  
« _ Won't have any sleep, thanks to a certain someone, and I'm waiting for an important flowers delivery this morning.  
_ You probably suck at selling flowers.  
_ And you definitely suck at going down, yet I'm not complaining. »  
Slit gave her an incredulous look, remaining dead silent. After a few instants of casual munching from a careless Lionne, he simply pursued.  
« _ Do I.. Really suck at going down ?  
_ Well, Splitface, you have a chance to change my mind. » Lionne grinned in return. 

Slit didn't pass by the shop for a few days. He expected Lionne to long for his next visit, begging him for even a quick fuck, but when he stepped again, he found her arching an eyebrow in interrogation.  
« _ Well, if it's not a surprise. Whatcha doin' here, Splitface ?  
_ Huh.. Just.. Comin' around. I was in the street anyway.  
_ You're always in the street.   
_ Yeah well.. D'you have any clients, or did you make them flee ?  
Lionne was carrying a heavy pot filled with roses, and answered while putting it in place with a huff.  
_ You can't even imagine. There's the couple of neighbours who listen to shitty music way too loud and early in the morning, and all these old ladies who-  
Lionne's sentence was interrupted by an actual old lady walking into the shop, giving Slit a worried glance and looking through the bosh of various flowers. Her eyes got heavily disapproving when she noticed the hickeys and bite marks that seemed to cover the blue-haired girl's neck and shoulders, and at the same time, Slit wondered who she got them with, before remembering he didn't care. She was just some nice fuck ; Certainly, he'd repeat that first night with pleasure, but there was nothing more, and she knew it as well.   
However, as the old patron franctically raised her eyebrows at them, he couldn't help but want to set something rather funny. Lionne wasn't the only one fond of annyoing people for entertainment, and Slit was about as talented as her to play that game. He started by striding across the shop and circling Lionne's narrow waist with an arm. By the look she gave him, the florist knew exactly where this was going, and when Slit pressed his lips against her, she welcomed him, making a real show out of that kiss, slow, deep and dirty.   
The old woman's disapproval seemed unable to get any stronger, and yet, she left the vase of flowers she was holding almost fall back in it's place and stormed out.

« _ Looks like I made you loose a client.   
_ Pff. She'll come back, and if she doesn't, well, the local mafia seems to need tons of flowers for a ton of funerals. -She gave Slit a pointed look and escaped his grip to go back to tiding flowers-   
The doorbell rang again, and but this time, the one entering was nothing like an old lady : a boy, about the same height as Lionne, or maybe one inch smaller, arms covered in tattoos and golden curls falling in front of his cherub-like blue eyes, giving her a small wave.   
« _ Junk ! How are ya today ?  
_ Happy to see you Lionne. And.. -The boy turned to Slit- Who's this ?  
_ Oh, don't mind the war boy, he was about to leave. »  
The blond gave Slit a strange look, but his gaze went back to the florist quickly, staring at her as if she was some kind of heavenly creature and not a mouthy headstrong.   
_I need a few tulips, would you mind ?  
_ Nah, just tell me how many.  
Counting some change he pulled out of his pockets and on the counter, Junk said :  
_ 6. They're for Vrek..  
_ I knew. -Lionne's smile grew warmer, sincere- Here goes, the girl added, handing him a small bouquet of yellow tulips. Junk mad his way out, waving a goodbye.  
« _ Did you seriously make friends ? With that kid ?  
_ Don't talk too fast, Splitface. He's about your age, you know ? Poor guy lost his bestfriend in a car crash, tho I think they might have been more than bros. He left his gang after that. He comes by, sometimes.  
_Looks at you like you're the seventh wonder. Don't know how he does that. »  
Lionne's sharp tongue didn't reply by snarky words, but a sigh escaped her lips.   
« _Just so you know, the whole neighborhood loves me. Put aside old ladies who think I'm a degenerate hooligan who sells her body.   
_ Are they for real ? Nobody would buy you.   
_ I know, right ? »  
Both laughed. Girl had some humor, thought Slit. Tough skin, too, the kind that his awful jokes didn't hurt.  
« _ Hey, ya like booze ?  
_ Do you like breathing ?  
_ Okay, I'll pass by tonight. Gonna show ya the best bar around !  
_ Not tonight. Busy. Tomorrow ?  
_ 'Kay. » 

Lionne did have other plans for this evening, plans she wasn't willing to tell, especially to Slit. He was nothing more than a one night stand, right ? Pretty nice one, but nothing close to a friend.   
Lionne didn't really bother with friends. For long, her only close relationship was with Shout, the person she admired and loved the most. Shout wasn't her mother : her biological mom was dead since years ; Shout hadn't just raised her, but taught her everything she knew. Clearly, there was no one in the world she trusted like her.   
Now, people passed by the shop not only to buy her flowers but to say hello, make some small talk and share the news with Lionne. Odd, but not unpleasant, and she slowly grew to know many of the street's inhabitants by their names. 

That night she was « too busy to go out » was something different. What exactly motivated Lionne to spend it with the most despicable and cruel human being she could find ? Trochar was beyond awful, but at least their mutual disgust was sincere. "Fuck me like you hate me" and all of that, some would say.   
Maybe, deep inside, she felt like nice things weren't for her. For her, there would only be deaths, loneliness, and the company strangers seemed to seek with the florist itself appeared like nothing but an illusion that would break sooner or later.  
In the morning, she arrived before the shop's opening, legs shaking and her throat sore, and only had the time to wrap her purple swollen scarf around her neck, hiding the marks, trying to cover the split on her lower lip. Her whole body ached, making every move painful while she opened the shop.  
Definitely, Lionne was a ruin, and not one made for kindness. If she had any impression she could get past Shout, it was probably just another illusion.


	4. "No couple things."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this one is quite long, it should give a satisfying development of the dynamic. Anyway, don't hesitate to comment, tell me what I need to improve, or share with your friends!

Slit showed up, as predicted, in the early evening, the engine of his car roaring loud in the street. Lionne stormed out of the shop, throwing a jacket on, and, wrapping the scarf tighter, hunched to the open passenger's window.   
« _ Hey fuckface. So, are we gonna drink ?  
_ Sure. Just sit your pretty ass here. »

The bar was one of this vaguely shabby places, although quite crowded at this hour. They both sat at the counter, exchanging jokes as if they had been their whole lives. The barman himself was a mountain with a quiet smile, not the least impressed by Slit's scars, which made Lionne conclude he probably knew him.   
« _ What will it be ? The giant asked.  
_ Whiskey. Slit replied.  
_ Where do you even find the money to buy alcohol ? The girl gave him a puzzled look.  
_ Do some repairs, mod cars..   
_ Fair enough. Apple-vodka for me. »  
Both downed their glasses with impressive speed, grinning at each other. Strange, how it felt like this had been their whole lives, and everything was natural.   
« _ See that guy, alone at the table ? Lionne asked.  
_ The one who's staring at you ?   
_ He's not staring at me, fuckface, I think he's gonna hit on you.   
_ Heh, he's not my type.   
_ Then what's your type of guys ?  
_ Hm..   
_ Oh come on gang boy, don't tell me you and all your brothers don't-  
_ Let's talk about something else.   
_ Pfff, alright. Like what ?  
_ We were on my type of guys, but d'you have a type of girls ?   
_ I'm not the kind of person who has « types ».   
_ So.. You don't like big tough guys with scars ?  
_ If you're refering to that work of art on your face, it makes me.. Curious. Though I prefer tattoos over scars, she added, one finger pointing at the swirls of ink that went past his shirt's sleeve, figuring flames and motors.  
_ I'm not drunk enough to tell you anything about my life anyway. »  
Lionne nodded, giving her now empty glass a disapointed look, in an agreeing « same here ».   
« _ Hey, bartender, bring me the lil' sister. And the same for him. -She pointed at a vaguely confused Slit-   
_ So you're paying for me now ?  
_ Yeah, obviously. Keep dreamin'. »   
The conversation went on as the drinks were downed, Slit explaining what were the War Boys who ran this town.   
It seemed like most cops would rather ignore them, and their only true enemies were the freshly arrived russians, the « Buzzards ».   
« _ Don't you guys have some sort of chief ?  
_ Lionne, the less you know, the best it is, trust me.   
_ What, don't tell me you think I couldn't defend myself against some boys ?  
_ I wouldn't take you in a fight, would be too afraid of breaking you.  His smile was carnivorous.   
_ Seriously Splitface ? I was raised by an ancient elite of the army, not a bunch of homeless weaklings ! »

They kept on arguing loudly, a row of empty glasses forming as they ordered. At some point, Lionne was oblivious of the time it was, or her habit to tighten the scarf around her neck, until the bartender calmly told them he was about to close and they'd better talk lower. Snorting, walking outside while leaning on each other's shoulder, almost tearing up from laughter.   
« Heck, she's not just a nice fuck, she's hilarious. Tho the whiskey might help. » Slit thought in his alcohol-cloudied mind, one arm on Lionne's shoulder. As they stumbled toward the car, she stared at him.  
« _ No way I'm getting my drunk ass in this gods-forsaken thing. You're gonna kill us both.  
_ Huh ? I .. Slit would usually jump in the car but sleep on the parking, waiting for morning to drive away, but he had to remember the florist didn't live the same lifestyle.  
_ Aight, listen Splitface : m'shop isn't too far, and I'm not letting you kill yourself in that bloody car. Let's go. »  
The cold night air made his ideas a bit clearer as he tagged along the girl, taking long steps. Well, she wasn't wrong, no way to go back driving, not safely, so Slit followed her, throwing his arm back on her shoulders.  
« _What, are you playing the boyfriend ?  
_ No way, I just needed something to lean on.  
_ You're super heavy, tho. Remember, « breaking me » ? Lionne smiled victoriously.  
Both giggled until they reached the street in which lived the florist. The night's cold air made their thoughts a little clearer, leaving only the comfortable and amused numbness of alcohol that cloudied mind, as if swimming in cotton. Clumsily, the girl took out some keys, still snorting a laugh and shushing Slit. Her scarf was falling, but in the dark it was barely noticeable. 

The entered the shop, noisy boots hitting the wooden floor without a care. Why were they even trying to be silent ? Slit was unable to remember, but it was hilarious. Everything was hilarious. He followed the girl upstairs and to what was probably her flat : small, and bared down to the point where he vaguely wondered if she truly lived in it, but he didn't think much about an answer as he flopped down on a large bed, almost the only furniture of her bedroom.   
In the dim light provided by the street, Lionne fumbled to reach her own lamp. She was yanking her boots off now, with a dopey smile. Slit glanced at her.  
« _ You've been wearing a scarf all night but it's not tha' cold.. You're so weird..  
_ None of your business, fuckface.   
_C'mon, just take it off. »   
Along with his words, he reached a hand to pull the already falling scarf from her neck, uncovering it.   
It was marked, deep, vivid and blue marks, slowly turning violet, decorating her neck like some strange necklace. « Just like a choker. » The boy noted.  
Lionne gave him an offended look, outraged even, all playfulness gone now, and she turned back, forearms resting on her legs.   
« _Oh fuck. It looks like.. -Slit's fingers almost brushed her skin as the florist remained silent- Did someone try to kill you ? »   
The marks were of a purple so dark it seemed almost black, thick bruises all over her neck giving the impression someone had strangled her, in the most horrific yet beautiful necklace. A real choker.   
« _ Are you dumb enough to think I'd let myself get killed ? Her voice was but a whisper.   
_Ya know, if.. If you're not okay or.. Huh.. well if you wan' me to kick their ass, I can.   
_ You can't and you won't. I'm fine. Lionne's word sounded harsh. Don't question it.   
_ You're into some pretty fucked up stuff. That's your business, but if you ever need me to break some legs..  
_ I'm fine.   
_ Alright. Let's.. Let's talk about stuff. Hey, I think I'm drunk enough to tell you about my scars now !  
_ And, what a miracle, I'm drunk enough to hear your pathetic stories.   
_ Nothing pathetic. It was glorious, trust me, Slit said, positionning himself on the bed after throwing away his boots and jacket.   
Lionne laid down, next to him, eyes half closed, humming while he talked.   
_ It happened during a fight. Was around 18, I think. We had a quarrel with another gang, and one of them decided to leave me a memory. It appears they thought of me as « quite mouthy », and one of them decided to widen my trap so I could speak better. -The gang boy left out a chuckle, but when he spoke back, his voice was lower- Hilarious right ? I wasn't able to talk while the wounds healed. Shit was so painful, and I couldn't say anything.. » Slit wasn't sure if she was asleep or not, but his voice became a raspy murmur. «Once my friend found me sobbing over how it hurt. Can you believe that ? Fuck, I didn't even have control over my voice. »   
She was still silent, and the gang boy hoped she had fallen asleep, but as he was about to leave, one hand reached to his chest and pushed him gently down on the bed.   
« _ You simply can't let go, right ?  
_ What ? Slit replied, intrigued.  
_ You never let go. Lionne smirked, perfectly awake now, and pointed at the marks that circled her neck. You never let someone else be in charge.   
_ Excuse me ?   
_ You're pretty easy to read, boy. Now, you just want to ensure you're always in power, always want people to coo at you and tell you how great you are when you're in charge of things. Tho, I ain't denying, you were pretty great. But you need to learn to let go. »  
Grumbling, Slit turned around. The bed was comfortable, this whole room was. Calm, and warm, and the regular breathe next to him.. All of that got him to close his eyes, only for a minute, and the last thing he could hear was a distant and faint echo of Lionne's voice, and it sounded.. Amused ?  
« It's the first and last time you're sleeping here. No couple things under my roof. »


End file.
